


you're all mine tonight

by altilis, evanstanlove (sassyviolet)



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyviolet/pseuds/evanstanlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb has fun with (and on) Chris at a club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're all mine tonight

The band is still going strong when they tumble onto a low, squashy couch in a shadowy corner of the club, hands and bodies still touching as they claim the spot. Chris drags Seb over from his seat on the couch to straddle his lap, groaning when he feels how hard Seb already is. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing when he says, "This really turns you on, doesn't it? What is it, the music… the club... the kind of exhibitionist thing even if it's kinda dark in here?”

Seb's pressing into him and getting Chris' hands on his ass while Seb kisses him, “Yeah, all of that,” he breathes, “but you're the best part.”

Chris knows he's definitely blushing now, but he doesn't fucking care. Not when Seb is kissing him like that, and he's grinding down onto him just like that. “Are you trying to make me go off like a teenager?” he grinds out as he squeezes that ass, pulling Seb tighter against him all the while.

Seb laughs against his neck and run his hands through Chris' hair. “Maybe I'm trying to get you to drag me to the bathroom,” he whispers just over the beat, “where I can suck you off.”

Chris goes utterly still as his brain gets stuck on that image, Seb on his knees on the bathroom floor, those lips wrapped around his dick. "You. You'd--yeah? You want." He can't string together a sentence, suddenly, and his mouth is dry and he's pretty sure the reason he's dizzy is not that he's drunk but that all of his blood has just gone straight to his dick. "Because I'd... Can we--will you? Please?" He's an idiot, he's aware, but God this man.

Seb laughs again, and he pulls at Chris' shirt collar, leaning back and grinding forward. “Course I will,” he murmurs against Chris' mouth, “if you last that long.”

Chris bites that ridiculously soft, wet bottom lip, tugging a little as he lets go. "Not walking out of here with sticky, wet pants," he murmurs, his hands squeezing Seb's ass again, then swatting him lightly, watching his reaction.

And Seb arches into Chris' body with a soft gasp, lips parted and pink. But then he's smirking. "Then what are you waiting for, huh? C'mon, Chris," he whines quietly, "I wanna taste your cock."

Chris laughs, shaking his head. "Oh my God. You're amazing, you know that?" he mutters against Seb's jaw. His hands tighten on Seb's hips as he lifts him off and lets him drop gently onto the couch next to him, the both of them sprawled out there for just a moment before Chris can move. "C'mon, then," he says after a couple of deep breaths, his body suddenly cold without the warm blanket of Seb draped over him. At last he stands up gingerly and takes another swallow of beer--he's not sure if it's his or Seb's--to fortify him for the walk back to the mens' room. And then he holds out his hand. "C'mon," he murmurs, hauling Seb to his feet.

For a moment Seb's languid and sprawled on the couch, chin tipped up as he stares up at Chris, then he takes Chris' hand. He bumps into Chris as he stands maybe on purpose, and slides a hand into Chris' back pocket as he moseys towards the bathroom. "You sure you want this, too?" he asks, a moment of lucidity as they get farther from the music. "We don't have to, if you're...if you're uncomfortable, y'know?" and he leans over to kiss his cheek lightly. "Could do it in my car."

Chris groans softly when he feels that hand in his pocket, and he slides his arm around Seb, tugging him closer. "'Course I want it. Want you," he emphasizes. Then he peers over at Seb in the dim light, wondering. "Unless you'd rather... We don't have to do this here." He smiles at that soft little kiss and pulls Seb into his arms, leaning against the wall down the hallway, a little out of the crowd.

Seb _smiles_ , bright and pleased and relaxed in Chris' arms, and leans into him, sliding both hands into his back pockets now, anchoring their hips together, "I like the music," he says, touching their foreheads together, "and I want another beer," his hips move a little, "and I could suck your cock here - anywhere, you know, but then I'd want your hands all over me and..."

Chris can't help returning that smile and then kissing Seb, slow and lazy. "...And then we wouldn't want to stop. and I don't want to fuck you against the wall in the bathroom, or anywhere in this club." He nuzzles against Seb. "So..." He takes a deep breath, his hand stroking the small of Seb's back as he leans back against the wall. "Another beer, then leave at the end of the set?" He nuzzles Sebastian, delighted by the flush spreading across his face. "Immediately after."

"Yes," Seb agrees, and there's a small hidden excitement in his smile, confidence reassured by the comforting touch at his back, the nuzzle making him feel warm in another way. "Sorry for stringing you along," he whispers, chuckling, and kisses the edge of his jaw. "We should share it - the beer. Don't think i want the whole thing." Or maybe he just wants to share something more with Chris.

“I think I’ll live,” Chris murmurs, and he smiles as he presses his lips against Seb’s jaw, trailing kisses back to that fucking sinful mouth. “Wasn’t exactly slowing you down, you know? I just…” He bites his lip as he raises his gaze to Seb’s, those impossible eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner, and he feels something curl tight in his chest. “Can’t help it, I don’t want to share you,” he admits, his voice a low rasp from the smoke in the club. He keeps that hand at Seb’s back as he kisses him again, soft and slow. “Another beer, then, to share. And maybe we can reclaim our seats there, in the corner.” He smiles as he pulls back.

The admission makes Seb grin, and he hums, pleased, against the kiss. “You can fight for the spot, yeah? Shouldn’t be too hard for Captain America,” he chuckles, touching Chris’ chest. When he looks likes he’s about to step away toward the bar, he ducks low again and whispers to him, “We only need one, too; I can sit in your lap.” And he’s smirking, again, when he pulls away, sauntering over to the bar (to talk a free beer out of the bartender).

Chris groans as he considers that idea, Seb curled up in his lap in the corner, and he almost hopes they _have_ to do that. “Well, yeah, now you’re going to have to,” he retorts. “Otherwise everyone in the club’s gonna know how hard I am.” He shakes his head as Seb pulls back and snatches one more quick kiss before shoving his hands in his pockets and heading back toward that cozy corner, grinning to himself. Chris all but cheers when he sees the couch is taken, but one of the plush armchairs is mercifully empty and he snags it, sprawling out with his knees apart as he glances at the stage and then over toward the bar. Waiting and watching as Seb charms a beer from the bartender and returns, weaving through the crowd with it held loosely in one hand.

The bartender gives him a Heineken “for you and your boyfriend,” but also maybe because of how Seb leans in and jokes with him. He thinks on the words as he makes his way over Chris, smiling and shaking his head when he realizes Chris did get a seat for one. Seb stands between his knees and pauses, the bass of the song thrumming loud and low, and he takes a slow sip of the beer, tilting his chin up, while he watches Chris - stretching out the time before he bends over to sprawl over Chris’ lap, one arm curled over his neck and his legs kicked up over the armrest, tight black jeans hugging his thighs.

He smiles as Seb settles into his lap, the warm weight of him enough to make Chris groan softly as he leans in to graze his lips over Seb’s jaw. “Comfortable?” he asks with a faint smirk as he slides his arm along Seb’s back, his hand stroking his shoulder while the other traces along the long line of Seb’s thigh to his knee.

It's easy to relax with Chris' arms around him, to lean into him and drum his fingers across Chris' shoulders. "You make a good sofa," he teases, grateful that he's close enough so only Chris can hear his words.

Chris’ lips curl in a broad grin when he hears those quiet words. “That’s… I don’t even know what to say,” he chuckles. “Not too hard, not too soft, then?” he asks as those fingers brush against his. Chris can’t quite hide the smile, though, part of him ridiculously pleased that Seb wants this, too, the closeness, even if it doesn’t necessarily lead directly to anything. The rest of him is just turned on, still simmering with heat from that earlier tease (and before, or maybe it’s just that he’s turned on whenever Seb is near), but as he reaches for the beer to take a long, cool drink, he thinks he could get used to both. The closeness, and the hunger.

Seb watches as he takes a drink, bites absently at his bottom lip as he watches Chris' throat tighten with the swallow. "Wasn't sure if you liked green bottles," he says as he takes the beer back, tilting his head against Chris' temple.

“Green’s a good color,” Chris says, and maybe his eyes shut for just a moment when Seb leans in and rests his head against his temple. “You _are_ amazing, you know that?” Chris turns his head the slightest bit, letting his nose brush against Seb. “This is nice.”

Seb makes a soft noise of agreement. Being close lets Seb ignore the rest of the crowd, too, but he can see their furtive looks, either on his black buckled boots or his long legs or how Chris holds him like a cherished beau instead of a club whore (which he appreciates, a lot). "I like your hand there, no, there," he says, nudging Chris' hand with the edge of the bottle, smearing condensation on his dark jeans, until Chris' hand stops right above his knee. "Here," he breathes, "it feels - strong, here."

Chris opens his eyes as Seb nudges his hand with the cool bottle. That, and the way he says exactly what he wants makes the heat curl low in Chris’ belly all over again, and he rubs his thumb against the warm denim as he lifts his gaze to Seb’s again. It’s dark in the club, but there’s light enough to make out Seb’s expression. Just. And Chris lets his other hand, the one not on Seb’s knee, slide up to stroke the bare skin above the collar of his thin shirt. On the stage, the band is chatting up the crowd, talking about their final number before the music starts again. “What else do you like?”

The hand at his neck makes Seb feel particularly treasured, satisfying a need for wanton affection that he had dressed for - but this is something deeper still, more than he thought he had wanted, and he feels his face flush. "I like that, too," he says, eyes half-lidded he feels Chris' fingers drag down the back of his neck.

“Good,” Chris whispers, smiling as he strokes Seb’s neck, liking the way he goes pliant. A lot. He kind of loves that Seb trusts him that much, and yet he feels his face coloring in the darkness as he listens.

"I like how nice you are with me, even when I drag you to seedy clubs in the middle of Manhattan."

“Even then,” Chris teases, and as he breathes in Seb is there, that kiss slow and soft… almost tender as they take advantage of the moment, nobody paying them any attention as the show winds down. He groans softly as Seb tugs at his bottom lip, that scrape of teeth making him shiver.

"...I liked your beard, too," Seb pauses for a drink from the bottle, and his tongue swipes at the corner of his mouth, "but I won't see that for a while, will I?"

He blinks when Seb licks the moisture from the corner of his mouth, then looks back up at him. “You liked… oh thank God.” Chris laughs, softly. “I mean, I guess it won’t be like that, not for a long time. Not like it was, that’ll take a while. But… you liked it.” He thinks about that, thinks about the logistics of beards. And maybe groans at the ideas that brings to mind.

“I like all of you,” Seb reminds Chris, tilting his head close as the lights on stage start to swirl, throwing purples and blues against the ceiling and over the crowd. “But it’s funny - ah, not funny, but _interesting_ , you know - when people see me, and you, like this, they call you my boyfriend,” he murmurs against Chris’ cheek. “But when you have your beard,” he kisses the corner of Chris’ mouth, “sometimes they say you’re my Daddy.”

Chris blinks and then he groans, long and loud, and thank God for the insistent bass because he’s pretty sure they’d be attracting an audience of their own if anyone had heard that. He leans his head against Seb’s, his eyes shut as he battles the surge of arousal that accompanies those words. “You… are you real?” he asks when he thinks he’s collected himself enough to speak. “Because you can’t just say things like that. When we’re in public. And I’m already hard from...well, from just _you_ ,” Chris whispers in Seb’s ear. He nips at his earlobe, worrying it with his teeth before letting go.

Seb’s practically vibrating with silent laughter and excitement, very proud of himself for getting that reaction out of Chris; he lets his grin show and it doesn’t fade when Chris tries to scold him. “But I just did,” he points out, keep his own voice as even as he can. At the nip, Seb takes a deep breath, teeth at his bottom lip, and shifts his hips just so - feeling Chris’ erection against his thigh, probably making it worse. But he knows he’s already won.

“Let’s go… please?” Chris asks, nuzzling against Seb. His hand tightens just a little above Seb’s knee. “So we can get out before the crowd…”

“Mm, okay,” he agrees, and sits up straight, taking a moment to knock back another cool drink of the beer before he swings his legs forward and pushes himself to his feet (shifting, again, over Chris’ crotch). Standing, Seb turns back to him, offering him a smile, a hand, and what’s left of the beer.

Chris groans again as he watches Seb take that drink, not sure whether it’s the sight of his throat working or the way Seb shifts and grinds against his crotch, every graceful movement deliberate as he climbs to his feet and turns that smile on him and reaches out. His hand is warm as Chris clasps it and stands, and there’s just enough of the beer left to quench his suddenly parched mouth.

He puts the bottle aside and laces his fingers with Seb’s as they make their way toward the exit. It’s a cool, rainy night, and Chris slides his free hand in the pocket of his leather jacket as they leave the club and head down the block toward the garage where they’d left the car. The walk isn’t far, and they’re in the elevator, on their way to the third level when Chris slides his arm around Seb and leans in, touching his forehead to Seb’s temple. “Okay to drive?” he asks.

Seb closes his eyes at the touch, going still for a moment to really check how he feels, and then he gives a little nod. “Yes,” he says, opening his eyes just as the elevator dings, “And we don’t have to go very far.”

His hand comes up as he steps out of the elevator to loosely circle Chris’ wrist, keeping that arm around his shoulders like a shawl against the evening chill (disadvantage, maybe, of his thin shirt). His other hand digs his car keys out of his pocket, and right before they’re bound to separate to either side of the car, Seb pauses, looks over at Chris, “You...you are staying overnight, yes? Or I could drive you to - wherever.” Chris’ suitcase is still in the trunk (along with a set of decent, ‘press appropriate’ clothes for Seb, just in case), so they’re all possibilities, but.

Chris glances up, surprised at first… and yet not. He tugs on that hand, pulling Seb in close. “I am staying,” he confirms. “As long as you want me?” he adds, one hand touching the edge of Sebastian’s jaw as he tips that face to his. The kiss is soft and lingering, with no particular intent.

“I always want you,” Seb murmurs, lips soft and warm against Chris’. The kiss grounds him, especially to have it where it’s quiet and deserted, where it’s cold enough that he can feel the sharp difference between the air and the flush on his neck, and he leans into the kiss and its comfort.

Chris follows it up with another, his hands rubbing over the thin material of Seb’s shirt. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

At the hands pressing over his shirt, Seb chuckles, pulling back, partly because he can see this being revenge, making him hard before he drives, partly because the material tickles, a little. “Bedroom, maybe?” he teases, smiling as he unlocks the car and steps towards the driver side. “Can you stop making me want to kiss you, until we get home?”

“I can try,” Chris said, his smile broad as he lets Seb step away to get in the car. When he climbs into the passenger seat he leans across the console, though, his hand curling around Seb’s neck as he steals one more kiss, nipping and tugging on his bottom lip. When he has to pull away for breath, Chris takes a good look at him, flushed pink, and gives a soft groan. “For the road,” Chris murmurs, and then he flops back into his seat and buckles in.

Seb stares at him as he flips the ignition switch, licks his lips as the engine rumbles to life and settles into a deep-throated purr. Every time, he’s surprised by how Chris can be so spontaneous but also how he can be so _Chris_. “Wonder what I’d get if I lived in Jersey, still,” he mutters, before reaching over for his own buckle.

 


End file.
